Day, John · published 1606 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
That's past my cunning: the old Fox has more holes than one, to hide's head in: But not to go long about the bush with you. No good Dorus, I do not love a man should go long about my bush: What is she for a woman? I know not what she is for a woman; marry I fear she's little better than a Whore for your Husband: hark in your ear; she's Manasses wife. Manasses wife? marry fire Master gunner; a Puritan turned Punk: Gods my precious. I'll slit her nose, as I am a Lady will I: is she the party you wot on? Yes faith Madam, she is the Mare the man rid on. I'll spoil their sport, saddle my Mule there, have an eye to the princess: shalt ha' my daughter and be but to spite him withal, faith Fox i'll ha' you out of your hole, or i'll fire you out. Nay that will do no good, but for your own good Madam, take heed you do not scold. Why may not a Lady scold Dorus? Scold, O in no case, 'twill mar a Lady's beauty clean, and make her look as hard favoured at any ordinary woman. Godamercy for that Dorus, I'll not lose my beauty for twenty on'em: saddle my Mule, bring me my chopping knife, I'll gold the lecherous Goat, and mince his Trull, as small as herbs to the pot. This is not scolding Dorus, is't? No this is tolerable. Nay then I care not, saddle my Mule I say, let her pray God her feeling be good, for as I am a Lady, I'll not leave her an eye to see withal, and yet I will not scold neither. Oh take heed of that at any hand, So, so, so: now it begins to quicken methinks, I see already how she runs a-tilt at the Wenches eyes: calls the maid bawd, the woman Whore, and her husband Lecher: and when all comes to all, like an Irish Wolf, she barks at her own shadow; but committing her and her Ass to their wild-goose chase: now to my sweet heart Mopsa, for she's all the blocks last in my eye to stumble on: and God bless my wits, for the fool haunts me. Dorus, where's my Father Dorus? Your Father, Oh my dear Mopsa? Nay now you flout me? Flout you? oh the fair heavens, but this t's for a man to cast away himself in violence of passion and extremity of sighs on a piece of beauty, that cares not for him, but it is the tricks on you all. Tricks, no as god mend me, and I should not have a husband till I got him with tricks, I should lead apes in hell: but faith tell me, dost thou love me Dorus? Do I love you quoth ye, It cuts my very heart strings, do I love you? why 'tis the only mark my Inqeuors she or at.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
That's paſt my cunning: the olde Foxe has more holes then one, to hide's head in: But not to goe long about the buſh with you. No good Dorus, I do not loue a man ſhould go long about my buſh: What is ſhe for a woman? I know not what shee is for a woman; marie I feare she's litle better then a Whore for your Husband: harke in your eare; shee's Manaſses wife. Manaſſes wife? marie fire Maiſter gunner; a Putitane turnd Puncke: Gods my precious. Ile ſlit her noſe, as I am a Ladie will I: is shee the partie you wot on? Yes fayth Madam, shee is the Mare the man rid on. Ile ſpoile their ſport, ſadle my Mule there, haue an eie to the princeſſe: ſhalt ha my daughter and be but to ſpite him withal, faith Fox ile ha you out of your hole, or ile fire you out. Nay that will doe no good, but for your owne good Madam, take heed you doe not ſcold. Why may not a Lady ſcold Dorus? Scold, O in no caſe, twill marre a Ladies beautie cleane, and make her looke as hard fauoured at any ordinarie woman. Godamercie for that Dorus, Ile not looſe my beautie for twentie on'em: ſaddle my Mule, bring me my chopping knife, Ile gold the lecherous Goat, and mince his Trull, as ſmall as herbs to the pot. This is not ſcolding Dorus, is't? No this is tollerable. Nay then I care not, ſaddle my Mule I ſay, let her pray God her feeling be good, for as I am a Ladie, Ile not leaue her an ele to ſee withall, and yet I will not ſcold neither. Oh take heed of that at any hand, So, ſo, ſo: now it begins to quicken me thinkes, I ſee alreadie how ſhe runs atilt at the Wenches eies: cals the maid Baud, the woman Whore, and her husband Lecher: and when all comes to all, like an Iriſh Wolfe, ſhe barkes at her owne ſhadow; but committing her and her Aſſe to their wildgooſe chaſe: now to my ſweet hart Mopſa, for she's all the blockes laſt in my eie to ſlumble on: and God bleſſe my wits, for the foole haunts me. Dorus, where's my Father Dorus? Your Father, Oh my deare Mopſa? Nay now you flout me? Flout you? oh the faire heauens, but this ti's for a man to caſt away himſelfe in violence of paſsion and extremitie of ſighs on a piece of beautie, that cares not for him, but it is the tricks on you all. Trickes, no as god mend me, and I should not haue a huſband till I got him with tricks, I should lead apes in hell: but faith tell me, doſt thou loue me Dorus? Doe I loue you quoth ye, It cuts my very heart ſtrings, doe I loue you? why tis the onely marke my Inqeuors she or at.